Morrison, returning from the shadows, standing in the light-flood from the great chandelier, confronted three men who were making no effort to disguise their angry hostility.

The adjutant-general, nervously neutral, dreading incautious words that would reveal his unfortunate policy of politeness, tiptoed to the table and laid there the bunch of keys. "I'm needed officially down-stairs, Your Excellency!"

"By Judas! I should think you were!"

Stewart placed a restraining hand on Totten's arm. "I beg your pardon, Governor, but we need the adjutant-general of the state in our conference."

"Conference about what?"

"About the situation that's developing outside, sir."

"I'm principally interested in the situation that has developed inside. In just what capacity do you appear here?"

There was offensive challenge in every intonation of North's voice. His eyes protruded, purple circlets made his cheek-bones look like little knobs, he shoved forward his eye-glasses as far as the cord permitted and waggled them with a hand that trembled.

Morrison's good humor continued; his calmness was giving him a distinct advantage, and North, still shaken by the panic of a few moments before, was forced farther off his poise by realization of that advantage.

"Allow me to be present simply as an unprejudiced constituent of yours,
Governor North."

"Judging from all reports, I'm not sure whether you are a constituent or not. I'm considerably doubtful about your politics, Morrison."

"I hope you don't intend to read me out of the party, sir! But if that question is in doubt, please permit me to be here as the mayor of the city of Marion. There's no doubt about my being that!"

"Let me remind you that this is the State House, not City Hall."

"But tolerate me for a few minutes! I beg of you, sir! Both of us are sworn executives!"

"Your duties lie where you belong—down in your city. This is the State
House, I repeat!"

"Do you absolutely refuse to give me a courteous hearing?"

"Under the circumstances, after your actions this evening, after your public alliance with the mob and your boasts of what you were coming up here to do, I'm taking no chances on you. You're only an intruder. Again, this is the State House!"

Morrison dropped his deference. He shot out a forefinger that was just as emphatic as the Governor's eye-glasses. "I accept your declaration as to what this place is! It is the State House. It is the Big House of the People. I'm a joint owner in it. I'm here on my own ground as a citizen, as a taxpayer in this state. I have personal business here. Let me inform you, Governor North, that I'm going to stay until I finish that business."

"That poppycock kind of reasoning would allow every mob-mucker in this state to rampage through here at his own sweet will. General Totten, call a corporal and his squad. Put this man out."

Senator Corson grunted his indorsement and went to a chair and sat down. His Excellency was pursuing his familiar tactics in an emergency—the rough tactics that were characteristic of him. In this case Senator Corson approved and allowed the Governor to boss the operation.

"I—I think, Mayor Morrison," ventured the adjutant-general, "considering that recent perfect understanding we had on the matter, that we'd do well to keep this on the plane of politeness."

"So do I," Stewart agreed.

"Then I hazard the guess that you'll accompany me down-stairs to the door.
Calling a guard would be mutually embarrassing."

"It sure would," asserted Stewart, agreeing still.

"Then—" The general crooked a polite arm and offered it.

"But your guess was too much of a hazard! You don't win!"

However, Morrison turned on his heel and ran toward the private door. He appeared to be solving all difficulties by flight. It was plain that those in the room supposed so; their tension relaxed; the mayor of Marion was manifestly avoiding the ignominy of ejection from the Capitol by the militia—and that would be a fine piece of news to be bruited on the streets next day, if he had remained to force that issue!

Stewart flung open the door. But instead of stepping through he stepped back. "Come in," he called.

Paymaster Andrew Mac Tavish led the way, plodding stolidly, his neck particularly rigid. Delora Bunker, stenographer at St. Ronan's mill, followed. Last came Patrolman Rellihan, his bulk nigh filling the door, his helmeted head almost scraping the lintel. He carried a night-stick that resembled a flail-handle rather than the usual locust club. Morrison slammed the door and Rellihan put his back against it.

There was a profound hush in the Executive Chamber. The feet of those who entered made no sound on the thick carpet. Those who were in the chamber offered evidence of the truism that there are situations where words fail to do justice to the emotions.

Morrison was the first to speak. He walked to the table before uttering a word; on his way across the room his eyes were on the keys. When he leaned on the table he put one hand over them. "This invasion seems outrageous, gentlemen. Undoubtedly it is. But I have tried another plan with you and it did not succeed. I had hoped that I would not need these assistants whom I have just called in."

"Totten, go bring the guard!" North's voice was balefully subdued.

Rellihan looked straight ahead and twirled his stick.

"I apologize for stretching my special exception a bit, and introducing these guests past the boys at the door," Stewart went on. "I'm breaking the rules of politeness—and the rules of everything else, I'm afraid. But all rules seem to be suspended to-night!"

"Totten!" the Governor roared, pounding his fist on the arm of his chair.

Morrison gave the policeman a side-glance as if to inform himself that all was right with Rellihan.

Then he pulled a handy chair to the table and motioned to Miss Bunker. She sat down and opened her note-book.

"I have come here on business, gentlemen, and you must allow me to follow some of my business methods. The heat of argument often causes men to forget what has been said. I'm willing to leave what I may say to the record, and, in view of the fact that all this is public business, I trust I'll have your co-operation along the same line. And there's a young lady present," he added. "That fact will help us to get along wonderfully well together."

"What's that devilish policeman doing at my door?" demanded the Governor, finding that his frantic gestures were not starting the adjutant-general on his way.

"Insuring complete privacy!" The mayor beamed on the Governor. "Nothing gets in—nothing gets out!"

North grabbed the telephone instrument on his desk.

One of Stewart's hands was covering the keys; with the fingers of the other hand he had been fumbling under the edge of the desk. He suddenly pulled wires from the confining staples; he yanked a big mill-knife from his trousers pocket and cut the wires. North flung a dead instrument clattering on the broad table and found only oaths fit to apply to this perfectly amazing effrontery.

"You need not take, Miss Bunker!" The quiet dignity of Morrison and the rebuke the Governor found in the girl's contemplative eyes choked off the profanity as effectively as would gripping fingers at his throat.

"I realize that all this is absolutely unprecedented—has never been done before—is unadulterated gall on my part, Governor North. Perhaps I haven't a leg to stand on."

"Morrison, this infernal nonsense must cease!"

Senator Corson shouted, leaping from his chair and shaking both fists.

"You need not take, Miss Bunker!"

Corson gulped and surveyed the young lady, and found her eyes as disconcertingly rebuking as they had proved in the case of North.

"Not especially on account of the style of your language, Senator! But you are merely a visitor here, the same as I! At the present time your comments on the business between the Governor and myself can scarcely have any weight in the record."

"What in blazes is that business? Get it out of you!" commanded the other principal in the controversy.

"With pleasure! Thank you for coming down to the matter in hand. You may take, Miss Bunker.

"Governor North, I have been about among people this evening and—"

"You have been making incendiary speeches, and I demand to know what you have said and why you have said it!"

"I have no time now to go into those details. My business is more pressing, sir."

"You're in cahoots with a mob! I saw you operating, with my own eyes, under my own roof," asserted Senator Corson, violently.

"I have no time for discussing that matter." Morrison looked up at the clock on the wall. "This other business, I assert, is urgent."

Banker Daunt had been holding his peace, growling anathema to himself in the depths of a big chair.

He struggled to the edge of that chair. "I am in this building right now to warn the Governor of this state that you are playing your own selfish game to stifle enterprise and development and to discourage outside capital—hundreds of thousands of it—waiting to come in here."

"Pardon me, sir! I have no time to discuss water-power, either! Right now I'm submitting news instead of theories!" He faced the Governor again. "That's why I'm here—I'm bringing news. That news must put everything else to one side. We have minutes only to deal with the matter. And if we don't use those minutes with all the wisdom that's in us, the shame of our state will be on the wires of the world inside of an hour!"

His vehemence intimidated them. His manner as the bearer of ill tidings won what his appeals had not secured—an instant hearing.

"What I say will be a matter of record, and the blame will be placed where it belongs. You can't claim that you didn't have facts. I have been among the people. I have sent others among 'em and I have received reports and I know what I am talking about. There's a mob massing down-town—a mob made up of many different elements! That kind of mob can't be handled by mere arguments or by machine-guns. That mob must be shown! Talking won't do any good. Just a moment! You won't do what you ought to do, Governor, unless you have this thing driven straight at you! In that mob are the men who have voted for various members of the legislature who claim seats and whose seats are threatened. It's a personal matter with those men. You can't soft-soap 'em to-night with promises of what the courts will do. Several hundred huskies are on the way over here from the Agawam quarries Those men don't care about this or that candidate. They have been paid to grab in on general principles—and they're bringing sledge-hammers. In that mob, also, are the Red aliens who keep under cover till a row breaks out; any kind of trouble suits their purpose—and you know what their purpose is in regard to this government of ours. They're coming, I tell you. They're coming on to Capitol Hill!"

"And what have you been doing to stop 'em, after all your promises of what you'd do?" raged North.

"I've been doing the best I could, with what loyal boys I could depend on.
But I want to know now what you're going to do?"

"Shoot every damnation thug of 'em who gets in range of our machine-guns.
Totten, hustle yourself down-stairs and see that it's done!"

"Genera! Totten will not leave this room—not now! You're all wrong,
Governor."

"That's the way a mob was handled in one state in this Union not so very long ago, and the Governor was right! He was hailed from one end of the country to the other as right!"

"The principle behind him was right—that's what you mean, Governor North.
That was just the point he made!"

"Do you dare to stand there and intimate that I haven't got principle behind me? Statute law, election law?"

Morrison glanced again at the clock; then he tossed a bomb into the argument. "The principle in this instance is a pretty wabbly backing, sir. I'm afraid that even my loyal boys will join the mob if the news gets out about those election returns in certain districts—the returns that were sent back secretly to be corrected."

The bomb had all the effect that Morrison hoped for. His Excellency slumped back in his chair and "pittered" his lips wordlessly.

"I don't think the news has actually got out among the general public, but it's apt to leak any minute, sir. You can't afford to take chances."

"Such slander is preposterous!" Corson asserted. "What used to be done—reviving old stories—I say that our party will not lend its countenance to any such tricks." In his excitement he had dropped an admission as to the past in politics while offering a disclaimer as to the present.

"There's no time now for any political discussions," retorted Morrison, curtly. "It's a matter right now of side-tracking a fight. If that fight comes off, Governor North, the truth will come out. And you can't point to a principle in your case as an excuse for bloodshed!"

"If a mob attacks this State House there's got to be a fight."

"It takes two to make a fight, sir. Order General Totten to march his troops out of the State House. Machine-guns and all! Tell 'em to go home and go to bed."

That audacious advice was a second bomb!

After a few moments Senator Corson leaped out of his chair, strode across the room, and plucked his coat and hat from the divan. "Come along, Daunt!" he counseled, his voice cracking hoarsely.

"Hold on, Senator!" expostulated the Governor. "I need your help!"

"I won't allow myself to be mixed into this mess, North. I can't afford to help shoulder the blame where I have not been fully informed. And I won't allow a lunatic to endanger my life. Come on, Daunt, I tell you!"

"If you're bound to go, I'll go along, too," proffered the Governor, rising hastily. "This thing can be handled. It's got to be handled. We'll go where this infernal, clattering loom from St. Ronan's mill can't break up a gentlemen's conference."

Stewart did not suggest that the gentlemen remain; nor did he offer to go; nor did he plead for a decision. He stood quietly and watched them pull on their overcoats.

The Senator led the retreat toward the private door.

Morrison dropped the captured bunch of keys into his pocket.

Rellihan held his club horizontally in front of him with both hands.

"Get out of the way!" yelped Corson.

The officer shook his head.

"General Totten, open that door."

"No chance!" Rellihan growled.

North wagged his way close to the barring "fender" and shook an admonitory finger under the policeman's nose. "I'm the Governor of this state! I order you to move away from that door."

"I can't help what ye are! I'm taking me orders on'y fr'm the mayor o'
Marion."

"You see, gentlemen!" suggested Morrison. "It looks as if we'd be obliged to settle our business right where we are—in this room. Time is short. Won't you come back here to the table?"

There was absolute silence in the Executive Chamber—a silence that continued. The dignitaries at the door deigned to accord to Morrison neither glance nor word; they would not indulge his incredible audacity to that extent. As to Rellihan, they did not feel like stooping so low as to waste words on the impassive giant who personified an ignorant insolence that made no account of personalities. They adventured in no move against that obstacle in their path, either by concerted attack or individual effort to pass. They looked like wakened sleepers who were struggling with the problems proposed in a nightmare. It was a situation which seemed beyond solution by the ordinary sensible methods.

After a time Governor North voiced in a coarse manner, inadequately, some expression of the emotion that was dominating the group. "What in hell is the matter with us, anyway?"

Again there was a prolonged silence.

"Seeing that nobody else seems to want to express an opinion on the subject, I'll tell you what the matter is, as I look at it," ventured Stewart, chattily matter-of-fact. "We're all native-born Americans in this room. Right down deep in our hearts we're not afraid of our soldiers. We good-naturedly indulge the boys when they are called on to exercise authority. But from the time an American youngster begins to steal apples and junk and throw snowballs and break windows a healthy fear of a regular cop is ingrained in him. It's a fear he doesn't stop to analyze. It's just there, that's all he knows. Even a perfectly law-abiding citizen walking home late feels a little tingle of anxiety in him when he marches past a cop. Puts on an air as much as to say, 'I hope you think I'm all right, officer—tending right to my own business!' So, in this case, it's only your ingrained American nature talking to you, gentlemen! You're all right! Nothing is the matter with you! It ought to please you because you feel that way! Proves you are truly American. 'Don't monkey with the cop!' Just as long as we obey that watchword we've got a good government!"

Senator Corson was more infuriated by that bland preachment than he would have been by vitriolic insult. While he marched back to the table he prefaced his arraignment of Morrison by calling him an impudent pup. He dwelt on that subject with all his power of invective for some minutes.

"I agree with you, Senator," admitted Morrison when Corson stopped to gather more ammunition of anathema. "But what are you going to do about it?"

He asked the same question after the Senator had finished a statement of his opinion on the obstinacy of the lunkhead at the door.

The Senator kept on in his objurgation. But whenever he looked at the door he found the policeman there, an immovable obstacle.

Whenever Corson looked at Morrison he met everlastingly that hateful query.

Both the question and the cop were impossible, impassable. Corson found the thing too outrageously ridiculous to be handled by sane argument; his insanity in declamation was getting him nowhere.

"There's only one subject before the meeting," insisted Stewart. "We've got to keep this state from being ashamed of itself when it wakes up to-morrow morning!"

Somewhere, in some hidden place in the room, a subdued buzzing began and continued persistently.

The understanding that passed between Corson and North in the glance which they exchanged was immediate and highly informative, even had the observer been obtuse. But in that crisis Stewart Morrison was not obtuse.

Whether it was deference, one to the other, or caution in general that was dominating the Senator and the Governor was not clearly revealed by their countenance. At any rate, they made no move.

"Pardon me, Senator Corson," said Stewart. "I'm quite sure I know where the other end of that telephone line is. I think your daughter is calling!" His inquisitive eyes were searching the walls of the chamber; the source of the buzzing was not easily to be located by the sound.

The Governor suddenly dumped himself out of his chair and started across the room.

Morrison strode into His Excellency's path and extended a restraining arm that was as authoritative as Rellihan's club. "I beg your pardon, too, Governor! But that call is undoubtedly for Senator Corson. I happen to know quite a lot about the conveniences in his residence!"

"And all the evening you have been using that knowledge to help you in violating my hospitality! Morrison, you're not much else than a sneak!" affirmed Corson.

The Governor struck his fist against the rigid arm and spat an oath in Morrison's face, "Get out of my way! I'm in my own office—I'll tend to that call!"

"No, you'll not!" was Morrison's quick rejoinder. "Senator Corson, if you want to inform your daughter that you're all safe—if you want to ask her not to worry, you'd better answer. But I must insist that a private line shall not be used to convey out of this room any of our public business!"

Corson then became the only moving figure in the tableau; he went to the wall, pushed aside a huge frame which held the state's coat of arms, and pulled from a niche a telephone on an extension arm. He proceeded to display his utter contempt for commands issuing from the absurd interloper who was presuming in such dictation to dignity "Yes! Lana! Call High-sheriff Dalton! As quickly as possible! Tell him to secure a posse. Tell him I'm in the State House, threatened by a lunatic. Tell him—"

By that time Morrison was at Corson's side and was wresting the instrument from the wall. He broke off the arm and the wires and flung them across the room.

"There's fight enough on the docket, as the thing stands, without calling in another bunch to make it three-sided, sir! Rellihan, open the door for Mac Tavish! Andy, run to the public booth in the corridor and call Dalton and tell him to pay no attention to any hullabaloo by hysterical women. Tell him I said so! Ask him to keep that to himself. And rush back!"

He turned on the Senator and the Governor.

There was no longer apology or compromise in the demeanor of the mayor of Marion. "I know I'm a rank outsider! You needn't try to tell me what I know myself. I didn't think I'd need to be so rank! But I'm just what you're forcing me to be. I have jumped in here to stop something that there's no more sense in than there is in a dog-fight. They may fight in spite of all I can do! But, by the gods! I'm not going to stand by and see men like you rub their ears! Senator Corson, I advise you and Governor North to go and sit down. You're only making spectacles of yourselves!"